


Of Monsters and Men

by SuperWhoLockianFangirl



Category: Hannibal (TV), Red Dragon (2002), The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark Thoughts, Death, Gore, Implied Cannibalism, Implied Violence, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Nightmares, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:05:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockianFangirl/pseuds/SuperWhoLockianFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After learning that his psychiatrist and friend Hannibal Lecter is also the Chesapeake Ripper, Will isn't sure what to do with his life. But no matter where he is, he still finds himself inexplicably drawn to Hannibal in ways that should terrify him, but don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters and Men

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is keeping me up at night and not allowing me much time to focus on anything. It’s a wonder I’m writing anything for my other stories at all. Hannibal is just too fascinating and the Hannibal/Will relationship is just so much fun to explore. Also, I’m a terrible person, but let’s not talk about that.

_I am able to play monsters well. I understand monsters. I understand madmen.  
 **-Anthony Hopkins**_

* * *

**I.**

Will woke to the sound of slight beeping and the sterile scent of a hospital room. He was uncomfortable and his side itched terribly. He squeezed his eyes shut and shifted against the stiff, thin fabric of the sheet and twisted a bit in the bed.

He could feel tubes connected to him – an IV likely delivering some medication he didn’t want in his body and cords monitoring his heart rate and breathing. His throat was aching and sore and he realized he’d probably had a breathing tube shoved down there recently.

It took him far longer than he wanted to admit to remember exactly why he was in the hospital. His memory was hazy, but he figured pretty quickly something must’ve gone wrong on some case he had been working.

Will’s brain struggled to catch up to him as he slowly let his eyes open. The room was too bright and he winced, his eyes slamming shut again. Even more slowly than before, he opened his eyes and let them adjust to the light.

He saw quickly that the itching was from the bandages on his side and as he shifted a bit he knew he had stitches. A stab wound. He wondered who had stabbed him, but the memory was still a little hazy.

Will was so busy trying to piece together what had happened to put him in the hospital that he didn’t even realize he wasn’t alone in the room. It wasn’t until Alana leaned over from the chair beside his bed that he saw her and immediately his attention was drawn away from the wound at his side and to her wide, concerned eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Alana spoke softly, as if she were afraid that speaking too loudly might cause Will further injury. He wasn’t sure why that made him angry, but he had to fight to bite back a sarcastic retort and instead looked back down at his side.

“Itchy,” he said after a too-long pause. He frowned and glanced back up at her, carefully avoiding eye contact, “What happened?”

Alana’s lips turned down into an uncertain frown, “You don’t remember?”

The anxious tension rolling off of her made Will’s gut clench painfully. What had happened? He tried again to go back in his mind, but things were fogged over with a haze of pain and drugs. He got a flash of strong hands on his shoulders, a sharp pain in his side and a soft, gentle voice that tugged at the edges of his memory.

“It’s hazy,” he admitted, “I’m not sure…”

She pressed her lips together, sitting up straighter and debating internally about something. Her indecision faltered on her face as well as any neon sign would have. He tried to shift into a more properly seated position, but the stitches in his side tugged painfully and he grimaced.

“So what happened?” he asked, “Where’s Jack?” If he had been injured on a case, he was surprised Jack wasn’t there to make sure he wasn’t totally broken and shattered. He’d hardly be useful to Jack if he was destroyed.

“Jack’s a little busy,” Alana said, carefully avoiding his first question. She cleared her throat, “Trying to wrap up the case. It’s going to be a long trial…”

“Trial…” Will frowned, watching Alana carefully. She was trying to keep her face in check and hold her emotions back, but she couldn’t hide things like that as well she should have. Not from him at least. Hannibal was the only person who was ever any good at keeping his emotions guarded – he was a calm island of serenity amongst a clamor of loud, shrieking gibberish.

Suddenly, Will realized Hannibal wasn’t there and frowned. Just as he opened his mouth to ask where he psychiatrist-slash-friend was, it hit him. The memory leapt out of nowhere and he nearly choked as it came to him.

_“Shh, don’t struggle, Will. I don’t want you to feel pain.”_

_“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Will. I didn’t want to kill you.”_

_“You are truly a remarkable boy, William. …I think I will eat your heart.”_

“Will… Will? Will!” Alana’s anxious voice and a hand on his arm yanked him out of the memory and he turned wide, horrified eyes on her.

“H-Hannibal…” was all Will managed to choke out and Alana’s face fell, her eyes swimming with sympathy she couldn’t possibly really feel. She sat back in her chair and sighed heavily, nodding.

“I’m sorry, Will…”

Her voice was soft and gentle, but Will felt another surge of irrational irritation at her gentleness. She was _sorry_? What for? She hadn’t shoved a knife into his gut. She hadn’t lied to him and manipulated him for several long months. She’d never pretended to be his friend to gain his trust.

God. He had _trusted_ Hannibal. He so rarely let people in and he’d never let anyone see as much of himself as he had Hannibal. He had thought they were friends. He’d thought that maybe… No. He had to shake his head to rid himself of the thoughts before they could sweep him under again.

Pressing his lips together, Will gathered every ounce of control he had and swallowed roughly.

“So… he survived then?”

His memory was still somewhat fuzzy, but he distinctly remembered stabbing Dr. Lecter – it was much easier to think of him as Dr. Lecter instead of _Hannibal_ – though he couldn’t quite remember what he’d stabbed him with. He knew Lecter had taken his gun when he stabbed him.

He flinched at the memory and turned his eyes to his hands. They were shaking slightly.

“Yes,” Alana was back to speaking softly, “He – He woke up yesterday. His injuries weren’t as extensive as yours…” she pressed her lips together and swallowed past a lump in her throat, “Jack hasn’t actually spoken to anyone yet, but he’s been keeping tabs on your recovery.”

Will frowned, “How long was I out?”

“Three days,” Alana said, “You’re lucky one of Hannibal’s patients discovered you not long after it all happened. The doctors said they barely got to you in time.”

Will snorted at the word ‘lucky’. He certainly didn’t _feel_ lucky. He felt like the whole world had just done a 180 and flipped him upside down.

He had been so stupid. The one person in the world he thought understood him, who _cared_ about him and he turned out to be a serial killer. Wasn’t that just his luck? He supposed the worst part was that, thinking about it, he wondered what he regretted more: that Dr. Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper, or that Lecter didn’t actually care about him.

“Jack wants you to testify,” Alana spoke carefully, “Of course, it won’t be for a while yet, but I thought I should warn you before he springs it on you himself. He’ll subpoena you if he has to.”

Will frowned, his expression darkening. “He won’t have to,” he said, his voice tight. “When the trial comes, I’ll testify.”

His Adam’s apple jerked in his throat and he had to wonder why he felt like crying. It wasn’t the pain – whatever drugs they’d given him did a damn good job of holding pain at bay – which really only left the anger and betrayal. He felt childish for the spark of tears and was grateful that Alana left soon after so that he could be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**II.**

The trial had not lasted as long as Will had expected. Three and a half weeks. It had seemed to drag out, of course, but there was never a doubt in Will’s mind as to what the verdict would be.

There was too much evidence against Hannibal for it to be anything other than guilty. Lecter’s lawyer was pushing the insanity defense, but Will knew one thing with absolutely certainty: Hannibal Lecter was not insane. He knew very well the difference between right and wrong. He simply chose not to be bothered by society’s morals and instead had his own.

The court room was packed the day that the jury read the verdict – they’d only been out for a few hours – and Will winced at the camera flashes and media crews eager to get something for their next article or news block.

It was disgusting.

He spotted Freddie Lounds, her red curls pulled away from her face, eyes bright and excited as she watched Lecter. There was a ravenous look on her face, her posture poised to pounce. She had a camera around her neck and a recorder in her hand.

For the briefest of seconds, Will wondered why Hannibal had let her continue to live when he killed so many others for being rude to him. There wasn’t a person viler to Will Graham than Freddie Lounds.

He could almost see the scene in perfect clarity – Freddie Lounds’ body twisted and grotesquely bent at an awkward angle. Her middle impaled with rods and knives and half a dozen other sharp instruments. Thick, congealing blood would pool underneath her and her eyes would have been left open, filmy with death. Her tongue missing, her lips sewn shut.

Realizing the dark turn his thoughts had suddenly taken, Will blinked and turned his attention back to the jury. He flinched when he caught Hannibal watching him, a small smirk on his face and a disturbingly knowing light in his eyes.

Will looked away quickly, shivering. He could almost swear Hannibal knew exactly what he had been thinking and he wasn’t sure whether that disturbed him or not.

As the “Guilty” verdict was read the court room roared in approval and Will grimaced. He felt suffocated by the people around him, suddenly, and he had to get out of there. He shoved himself to his feet and hurried out, his stomach churning as he found a bathroom.

Leaning over the sink, Will splashed cold water onto his face and tried to bring his mind back into the present. He needed to ground himself, because he felt like he was about to come apart at the seams. Unfortunately, the man who usually helped keep him grounded was on his way to being locked away forever in a maximum security prison for the criminally insane.

* * *

“What’s this?” Jack frowned as Will barged into his office without knocking. He laid down a letter and then his gun and the badge identifying himself as a Special Agent. His throat felt tight, but he met Jack’s eyes for a fearless second before focusing on his forehead.

“My resignation,” his words were clipped and a bit blunt, “I already notified the Academy and they’re looking for a replacement to take over my classes.”

Jack frowned, “If this is about what happened with Dr. Lecter –“

Will scoffed, a bitter smile on his lips, and shook his head, “It’s not just about Lecter, Jack,” he said, “It’s this job. The looking is – it’s killing me, Jack. I can’t do it. I _won’t_ do it.”

Jack was silent for a long moment, looking from the resignation letter to Will with tight lips. Slowly, he nodded and his expression softened just a bit.

“Alright,” he said carefully, “if that’s what you think is best for you, I understand.”

Will didn’t like the way Jack said those words. As if he were talking to a particularly petulant child. His fists tightened and for a moment he thought about what it would feel like to stab Jack Crawford and feel his hot blood running between his fingers.

The thought horrified him and his whole body was shaking as he jerkily nodded and bolted from the room as quickly as he could, leaving behind Jack Crawford, the FBI and any connection to Hannibal Lecter he’d ever had.

* * *

**III.**

In Florida, Will could pretend that everything had been a horrible dream. He could work on boat motors and take care of his ever-growing pack of strays and act like he was entirely normal. It was only whenever he looked down and saw the scar running down his side that he had to face the reality.

Of course he still had nightmares. That was nothing new. What frightened him was the fact that more often than not, the star of his nightmares was Hannibal Lecter. Worse, was the fact that Hannibal rarely starred as the monster in those dreams, instead entering the nightmares as Will’s savior.

Will wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that.

He managed to go five years without hearing from Jack Crawford. Five years without having to spend any time looking into the minds of serial killers. Of course he’d heard about the “Tooth Fairy”. He’d been following the story on the news, but he didn’t call Jack.

When Jack came to him, Will couldn’t say he was truly surprised. Jack was desperate and he wanted someone who could help him close this case fast. Never mind the damage the case could do to Will’s psyche, Jack just wanted to catch the killer.

“Look at the pictures, Will,” he said, sitting across from Will in the small kitchen. “Just once and tell me you don’t want to help.”

He held two photographs in his hands and Will frowned as he laid them face down on the table, sliding them toward him. Cautiously, Will lifted them up and instead of the horrible, bloody crime scenes he’d expected, he saw two bright, happy families with grinning, gap-toothed children.

He scowled. Manipulative bastard.

His jaw tightened as he looked up at Jack and Jack knew he had him then.

“Just look at the crime scene,” he said, “tell me what you see. You won’t have to get close this time. I swear. Just look at the crime scene and that’s it.”

Will knew he was lying, but he looked back down at the pictures and couldn’t say no to him.

* * *

“You can’t ask me to do this!” Will snapped, frowning at Jack. Beverly watched them anxiously, a file in her hands. She could see murder in Will’s eyes and that scared her. Jack seemed unaffected, however.

“If there’s any chance that he could help, we need to take it, Will,” Jack insisted, “You said yourself he’s the best there is and he’s helped you –“

“If you want his help, _you_ talk to him,” Will snarled the words.

“Do you honestly think there’s any chance he’ll talk to me?” Jack asked, his voice rising a bit, “He won’t, Will. But I think he will talk to you.”

Will’s laugh was bitter and he shook his head. “Just one crime scene, huh, Jack?”

Jack frowned, not letting the jab bother him. “There is a murderer out there, Will, and we don’t have a lot of time to stop him –“

“Fine,” Will cut him off, jaw flexing as he spoke, “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

Will tried to pretend he wasn’t absolutely terrified as he walked steadily down the dark row of cells, guided by Dr. Chilton the entire way there. His irritation at Chilton at least helped to make him forget his fear. Chilton was just as annoying as he remembered him being all those years ago.

He was grateful when the barred door slammed shut and Chilton pressed himself against the bars, calling desperately after him to know how he’d managed to catch Lecter. Will bit back a smartass retort and kept walking.

His footsteps echoed a bit and by the time he reached Hannibal’s cell at the very end of the hall, his heart was thudding loudly against his chest. He glanced at the Plexiglas cage they had his former friend in and frowned as he slowly took his seat.

Hannibal didn’t acknowledge him at first, lying on his back with his eyes closed. For a moment, Will wondered if he were asleep, but then Hannibal made a comment about him still having not changed his aftershave and Will had to fight back a smile.

It felt strangely normal, sitting there and talking to Hannibal. Will could almost pretend that nothing had changed. Hannibal’s prison uniform spoiled the fantasy a bit, of course, but even knowing what Hannibal had done… Will had a difficult time imaging him as a monster, in spite of seeing through the mask of normalcy Hannibal wore.

“Do you dream much, Will?” Hannibal asked, a knowing smile on his face, eyes lit with curiosity.

Will had to bite back the answer – he had nearly forgotten that he wasn’t in Dr. Lecter’s office having one of their “conversations”.

He tensed and stood, shaking his head, “Good bye, Dr. Lecter,”

Lecter sighed heavily and if it hadn’t been completely beneath him, Will would have expected him to roll his eyes as well.

“Give me the file, Will,” he said, “and I’ll tell you what I think.”

* * *

**IV.**

If there was one person Will didn’t want to see from his past with the FBI, it was Freddie Lounds. She hadn’t been welcome back then and she certainly wasn’t welcome now; yet she continued to be there, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong and Will was beyond irritated whenever she showed up at the hotel room Will was staying in while in Virginia.

She practically pushed her way inside and Will immediately moved to close the case file to make sure she couldn't find something to publish in her next article.

She seemed amused by his attempt to hide it and she smiled brightly at him, her eyes sparkling with that same hungry light he remembered.

“I heard you spoke with Dr. Lecter yesterday,” she said, “is he really helping on this case?”

“That’s none of your business,” Will snapped.

“Don’t you think –“

“I think you need to leave,” Will’s voice was dangerously soft and his eyes were hard, but Freddie didn’t seem concerned in the least.

“What was it like?” she asked, “Seeing Lecter again after so long. You haven’t even spoken to him since before the trial, have you?”

She sat herself down in one of the chairs in the room and Will felt his fist ball up tight, shaking a bit as he stared at her.

“Leave,” he said, “Or I’ll call the cops.”

She smirked, totally unbothered by the threat, “We’re just having a conversation Mr. Graham. It must’ve been difficult for you, seeing your old psychiatrist and knowing he was a monster. Does it bother you that he manipulated you so easily?”

Before she could ask another question, Will had dragged her from the chair by the shoulders, shoving her roughly into the wall. Her hair spilled around her shoulders and she winced, but she still didn’t seem all that bothered.

“I said leave,” Will’s voice was rough and Freddie’s eyes were bright with delight.

“Did I hit a nerve, Mr. Graham?” she asked slyly. A second later, the smile on her face faltered and she choked, eyes going wide with astonishment and pain. Slowly, shaking, she looked down and Will followed her eyes, his own eyes widening at the sight.

In his hand was a knife he hadn’t known he was holding. And it was buried into her abdomen up to the hilt, her hot blood rushing out of the wound and over his fingers. Oh god. Oh shit. What had he just done?

His thoughts were panicking and jerky as blood gurgled from Freddie’s mouth. He yanked the blade from her stomach and watched her collapse on the ground.

He hardly spared her a second’s glance before he swallowed roughly and began making plans to clean up the scene. His knew almost immediately what he had to do.

* * *

Freddie Lounds’ body was discovered in her apartment the next day. A stab wound to her gut and several more cuts made post-mortem with shards of glass from mirrors. The FBI wasn’t releasing any information, but they had strong evidence that she had been killed elsewhere and dropped in her apartment.

They believed her death had been connected to her recent article on the serial killer called ‘The Tooth Fairy’ and no one really questioned it. There weren’t many people who liked Freddie Lounds.

Will felt like he should have been more anxious after the body was discovered, but he wasn’t. He felt a strange sense of euphoria that they had been fooled. He knew the Tooth Fairy case well enough that it wasn’t hard to leave his signatures – like the broken mirrors and the mirrors in the eyes – at the scene.

Lounds did break his pattern, but when Jack asked Will to look at the crime scene Will had easily convinced him that this too was the work of the Tooth Fairy, who was upset with Lounds over the articles she wrote.

It was almost too easy and for the first time, Will really understood what Hannibal must’ve felt all those months helping them solve his own crimes.

* * *

“I read about what happened to Freddie Lounds,” Hannibal said during their next meeting, “A shame she appears to have died so quickly.”

Will shifted uncomfortably under Hannibal’s gaze and the older man smiled a shark-like grin at him.

“Your first murder, Will,” he said, “What did it feel like?”

Will was eternally grateful that Jack made sure Chilton couldn’t listen in on these conversations. Confidentiality in the case and other legal reasons that prevented him from eavesdropping.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will hedged. His voice sounded odd to his own ears, but Hannibal only tsked, shaking his head.

“You cannot lie to me, Will,” he said, “I can see inside your head. I know you better than perhaps you even know yourself. What did it feel like? Did you let her hot blood rush over your hands? Between your fingers? Did you taste it? Did it feel good? Did you enjoy deceiving Uncle Jack and his fumbling minions?”

Will looked away from Lecter’s knowing eyes and pointedly did not answer any of Hannibal’s questions – though part of him desperately wanted to – instead turning their conversation back to the case at hand.

* * *

**V.**

Will could honestly say that he hadn’t wanted to kill Francis Dolarhyde. Between profiling him for Jack and finding out about the man’s awful past, he felt bad for the man. If it could’ve ended any other way, Will would’ve let it, but when it came down to a choice between his own life and Dolarhyde’s, the choice was simple.

His only true regret was the new collection of scars he had marring his abdomen and chest, along with a rather nasty scar running the length of his left cheek. The skin was angry and red and raised in a ridged, jagged line.

In time the scar would fade a bit, but it would always been vividly visible and it made people shy away from him. Not that he cared all that much about what anyone else thought of him.

Part of him wanted to go back to visit Dr. Lecter again before he went back to Florida, but he didn’t.

Jack came to talk to him while he was in the hospital, asking him if he was sure that he wanted to go to Florida again. He all but came out and asked him to return to the bureau, but Will refused. He wanted nothing to do with Jack or the FBI. This time, he was going to keep his distance.

He had expected more nightmares after what had happened with Dolarhyde, but the nightmares tapered off quite quickly, morphing into strange dreams about Hannibal Lecter and Freddie Lounds and drinking blood while biting into someone’s heart.

Will was never sure whose heart it was and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He was half tempted to visit Lecter again, to tell him about the dreams, but he didn’t.

He got a letter from Hannibal in the mail a few weeks after arriving home. He couldn’t tell if the words were mocking or truly caring, but Lecter expressed his opinion on Will’s collection of scars and asked again about Freddie Lounds. He asked if Will had been curious what she tasted like.

Will’s first instinct was to toss the letter out, but he found himself unable to do so and instead he kept it, folded neatly, stashed away in his bedside table. He took it out and read it nearly every night, wondering if he should reply to the letter or not. He wasn’t really sure what to say.

* * *

**VI.**

There was a new serial killer on Jack’s radar and Jack was determined to believe Dr. Lecter could be of some help to him.

Three phone calls, a letter and one personal visit finally convinced Jack that Will wanted no part in the case. He followed the story in the news, of course. He never could quite remove himself entirely from the monsters he’d once hunted and “Buffalo Bill” seemed interesting to say the least.

He was surprised to hear that the FBI had managed to get Hannibal’s assistance without him. He wondered if Alana had gotten him to talk to her, though that seemed doubtful. And Hannibal would never have talked to Jack.

Will figured Hannibal had some end-game planned if he were going to assist on the case, but didn’t call Jack to warn him of his thoughts. He didn’t care what Lecter did to Jack.

He dreamt about Freddie Lounds more often after Jack’s last phone call. He saw her death in his mind over and over and it frightened him at the way the dreams _didn’t_ frighten him. More often than not, he woke with a throbbing erection and the panting breaths of his arousal.

In his dreams he watched the light fade from her hungry eyes, felt the heat of her blood sticking between his fingers and more often than not, he dreamt that Hannibal was there with him, guiding him through the murder like a teacher guiding a student.

It bothered him that he began to look forward to those dreams. To the gentle voice of Hannibal in his ear, Hannibal’s warm, strong hands on his own, showing him where to cut and how to cut. Holding him steady when his body shook with the rush of endorphins and adrenaline.

* * *

“Will Graham? I’m Clarice Starling,” the woman’s voice had an accent that came through very thick over the phone, “I’m in the Academy at Quantico –“

“If Jack told you to call about Buffalo Bill tell him I’m not interested. I’m retired.”

“No, this isn’t about that…” Clarice trailed off and Will could hear a frown in her voice. She sounded very young and slightly anxious, but was clearly willing to work through her nervousness. “It’s about Dr. Lecter. I wanted to get your opinion –“

“Wait,” Will laughed and the sound came out twisted and half-disgusted, “don’t tell me. Jack sent a _trainee_ to get Lecter to help on the case?”

“It worked,” Clarice said, sounding slightly indignant that Will would question her ability. “I got him to talk to me.”

“It’s not – Listen, Agent Starling,” Will said, “you might not see this now, but Jack’s just using you to bait Lecter –“

“To catch a killer,” Clarice said, “Which you clearly aren’t interested in doing any longer.”

“Baiting Lecter is a bad idea,” Will said, “Jack’s dangling you in front of him. That isn’t going to end well.”

“Thank you for the warning, Mr. Graham,” she said, “but I called to ask your opinion on Dr. Lecter since you knew him well before…”

“Before he tried to kill me?” Will’s voice was darkly amused, but he just shook his head, “You want my advice? Run. Get as far away from Hannibal Lecter as you possibly can. And stay away from Jack Crawford too, if you can avoid it. Jack has habit of throwing agents into dangerous situations and leaving them.” _Like he did me._

Will’s thoughts twisted bitterly and he again imagined what it would be like to stab Jack. It wasn’t as easy to push the thoughts away as it had been before.

* * *

**VII.**

_HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL ESCAPED_!

The headline made Will shiver, but not in fear. He didn’t feel scared in the least to hear that Hannibal has escaped. He wasn’t even all that surprised either. He’d known Hannibal would try to pull something and he couldn’t help but smirk at how frantic Jack had to be.

Jack called him to warn him about Hannibal. Will probably should have taken that warning to heart, but he honestly didn’t care. Instead of being scared, Will thought about the fact that he might actually want Hannibal to pay him a visit, despite the fact that it would very likely mean his own death.

Clarice Starling called after Jack did and Will was much more courteous to her than he was to Jack. She asked if Will might have any insight into where Hannibal would go, but he didn’t and she sounded upset.

Will got the distinct impression that she was hiding something and he was almost positive that in spite of the short time she’d known Hannibal, he’d affected her. Hannibal left his mark on yet another FBI agent and Will wasn’t really surprised about that. Lecter was more a force of nature, a vengeful god, than he was human.

* * *

Will heard the news about Dr. Chilton’s disappearance and couldn’t stop the smile on his face. He knew that was Hannibal’s doing, even without a body. Hannibal had never liked Chilton – frankly, neither had Will. He couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to be upset about the death.

His dreams were soon plagued with more thoughts of Hannibal. He entertained fantasies that were too good to be true – Hannibal stopping by his house, greeting him like an old friend and things being like they had before except infinitely better.

It was childish and Will knew it so he tried not to let himself dwell too much on the thoughts.

* * *

It was nearly a month after Hannibal Lecter’s escape that Will woke up to the sounds of pots gently clanging in his kitchen. Even from his bedroom he could hear the sizzle of the stove and the pop of grease in a frying pan.

He should have been scared, but he wasn’t. His heart skipped in his chest and he wondered if he were dreaming again, but this felt real and if it was a dream, he didn’t want it to be over just yet.

Will slipped out of bed and made his way down the stairs, arms folded over his bare chest. He thought too late of putting on a shirt and didn’t want to go back upstairs to get one.

He poked his head into the kitchen and inhaled sharply at the familiar form.

Hannibal had his back to him, working over the stove with the same fluid, graceful movements that Will remembered from all those years ago. It was almost like nothing had changed at all and this was just another one of Hannibal’s surprise breakfasts.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal’s voice was exactly as he remembered it. “I trust you slept well.”

Will frowned, edging his way into the kitchen. Much as he wanted things to be the way they had been, he couldn’t forget that this man had nearly eviscerated him once. Unconsciously, he rubbed at the long, dark scar and kept his eyes on Hannibal at all times.

“About as well as usual,” he said. His voice sounded steady. Far more at ease than he expected it to be.

“Still having nightmares?”

Hannibal hadn’t turned around, his focus entirely on the food he was preparing. Will wondered idly if it was a person that he was cooking. He realized the thought didn’t repulse him as much as it probably should have.

_I’m completely losing my mind._

The thought only brought a deranged smile to his face. He moved further into the kitchen proper and stepped as close to the other man as he dared to get. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, feeling self-conscious and suddenly wondering what Hannibal would think of the scars Dolarhyde had given him.

“Are you here to finish the job?”

Hannibal finally froze. Slowly, he turned to look at Will, meeting his eyes before Will tore his gaze away and focused on Hannibal’s chin. Hannibal found his own eyes drawn to the long, crooked scar on the left side of Will’s face and he frowned a bit.

Will flinched whenever Hannibal reached out and touched the scar, stepping right into Will’s comfort zone. Will shivered at the closeness, feeling Hannibal’s body heat radiating off of him. He wanted to close the short distance between them and fall into the other man’s arms, but the rational part of his brain – a part that was barely functioning any longer – screamed at him to run.

So he compromised and stayed still.

Hannibal cupped his cheek, tracing the long scar with his thumb, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

Will’s throat convulsed as Hannibal moved his hand down to Will’s neck, gripping the back of his head lightly.

“You didn’t answer me,” he pointed out, his voice sounding mangled and choked.

Without warning, Hannibal pulled Will forward, capturing his lips with his own, coaxing them open. Will melted into the kiss, letting his mind shut itself off and his eyes slip closed as Hannibal’s arms wrapped around his body, pulling him flush against him.

When he finally pulled away, Hannibal’s eyes were lit with amusement and one hand traced the scar he’d left him all those years ago.

“Does that answer your question, Will?”

Will’s lips tipped up into a soft smile and he pressed himself closer to Hannibal, enjoying the feel of his body hard and solid against him.

He only met his eyes for a second, but it was long enough for Hannibal.

“…What’s for breakfast?” Will’s tone was light as he disentangled himself from the older man and Hannibal couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the childish smile on his face.

He turned back to the pan on the stove and his eyes lit with a dark, beautiful light.

“A mutual friend of ours,” Hannibal said gently, “Perhaps you’ve heard the news of his unfortunate disappearance?”

Will really should have been bothered by how easily he accepted what was happening, but he couldn’t. He was floating, his thoughts far away from Jack Crawford and the FBI and instead focused entirely on Hannibal Lecter’s strong shoulders and how they moved beneath the suit he was wearing.

It felt like he hadn’t really smiled at all since Hannibal had been locked away and now, he wanted to laugh with the strange buoyancy he felt in his chest.

_I have **definitely** lost my mind._

* * *

**VIII.**

He’d managed to convince himself it had been a dream until he woke up in a motel room the next morning with Hannibal’s arm wrapped possessively around his waist, his hand pressing against the scar.

He followed the arm up to the shoulder and felt a jolt in his chest when he realized Hannibal was awake and watching him with those keen, all knowing eyes.

Will settled further into the hold, pressing his head against Hannibal’s chest and listening to his heartbeat, pumping loudly against his ear.

“We can’t stay here long, Will,” Hannibal told him, gently rising so that he was sitting against the cheap headboard. It seemed wrong somehow to see Hannibal in a place like this.

Will let the last vestiges of sleep leave him as he too sat up.

“Where are we going?”

Hannibal smiled, “I thought we might go to Florence,” he said, “I haven’t been in quite some time and I think you will enjoy it.”

Will didn’t feel quite as surprised when Hannibal kissed him this time, but his heart still sped up and he thought for a second that it might explode.

“If you’re there, I’m sure I will.”

* * *

_Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.  
 **-Stephen King**_

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own. Thoughts, comments and critiques are more than welcome!


End file.
